


Red Priest

by chrystening



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jon ran from the Wall, M/M, Unrequited Love, melisandre is really not that important, with good intentions, you're heartless....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15734241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrystening/pseuds/chrystening
Summary: You adored Robb—truly, you did! But sadly…You played with the dark garnet pinned to your chest, above your heart.… he was no true king.Robb Stark / Male!Reader / Jon Snow





	Red Priest

**Author's Note:**

> I liked writing this a lot, de-stressing because college starts in a few days! moving into my dorm!! whoop whoop

You moaned shamelessly, head falling to the side. As soon as you collected yourself, you scolded yourself for making so much noise. Regardless of Robb’s protection or not, no one could know of the secrets in this tent.

Your fingers curled in Robb’s auburn mass of hair. Robb made a noise of amusement, followed by a gag. You chuckled lowly, earning a spiteful baby blue glare. He did some teasing move along your shaft with your tongue in response. You threw your head back, eyes rolling to the darkness of your lids. You were swallowed in your entirety by your sweet king, who sat on his heels. How amusing it was to see _him_ bend the knee for once.

“You’re doing well, Robb,” you cooed wickedly. Your cheeks flushed as you drew air through your teeth. “And remember to— _ah_ —relax your jaw so you don’t hurt yourself.”

There was a pleased light in his eye, and what form his mouth could take around your length was a smirk. You recalled the image of dark curls bouncing in motion above you, a gentle hand searching for the best ways to make you feel good. So different, yet Robb was like him in so many ways—always eager to please.

It was night at the northern camp.

There was little sound, besides the incriminating noises that came from your evening activities. You lay in Robb’s tent, nothing but amber lanterns lighting the room. There was a privacy screen beyond Robb’s bed, and beyond that were tent flaps. And beyond that, not a single man guarding the tent, as Robb had commanded an hour ago.

Robb gave a long suck backward, trying to draw it all out of you. You shuddered, feeling yourself reach the peak. Robb must’ve tasted you before you even realized you were coming, because he began to withdraw. You refused to let him, however; you drove his head down with both hands, letting your tip hit the back of Robb’s throat. He glared up at you and you smiled, before your face slackened into an expression of pleasure. Robb gagged and sputtered, and you almost felt sorry. You let out an unabashed sigh as you spilled on his tongue, down his throat.

Once the stars cleared before your eyes and your vision stopped swimming, you brought your gaze back to your lover. He removed himself from your length, a cringe pinching his features. His cheeks were full, puffed up cutely. You smiled at the sight. Robb didn’t spit, as you had taught him.

 _Perfect_.

You tipped his chin up and opened your mouth, your tongue out to catch.

Robb rose from his knees. He leaned over you, a knee between your legs, flush against your softening erection. Your fingers brought Robb’s chin closer, his lips to yours.

Gracelessly, he opened his mouth and your seed fell from his hot mouth and flooded yours. You tasted yourself, some dribbling down your lips. He breathed heavily, his cheeks dusted with pink. His scruff tickled you, and his toned bare chest brushed against yours with feather-light touch.

You swallowed your own makings, keeping your eyes on Robb’s. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, their blueness overcome with heat. He seemed to always wear his emotions on his sleeve when he was around you. King he may be, but a boy he remained in so many ways. It’d get him killed one day.

“You were good, Robb,” you breathed. You were settling back into the plush of Robb’s bed when Robb tackled you down, grinning wolfishly.

 _“Just_ good?” he whispered. He was hard, and clearly wanting of you.

You played with the head, drawing your nails teasingly along it. He trembled, the cockiness on his face giving way to need.

 _“Great,”_ you whispered, watching the desire dance across his visage.

He looked down at your wandering hand, then back to you, looking hopeful.

“I want…” You spied the uncertainty on his face, in his voice. “Can I…?” he finished, leaving you to connect the dots.

“Take me, Robb. I’m yours,” you responded plainly. His face warmed, looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world.

You considered feigning embarrassment by shyly looking away but decided against it. Robb was whipped for you, perhaps hopelessly so.

As Robb moved to wet you with his saliva, looking enthused, you felt oils you utilized earlier slipping down your thighs. You stopped him from bothering, saying, “No need, love. I’m ready for you.” He blushed at the endearment.

You had prepared yourself in advance. It had been all Robb had been asking to do nowadays, ever since you first allowed him to take you. Once he had got it once, he couldn’t have enough.

Robb roughly curled his hands on your ribs, his grip sinking into your flesh. He was now aligned with your entrance, the tip against you. He began to move and bring you down onto his length.

Your jaw tightened genuinely. You knew Robb was watching your every reaction. Your every twitch, mewl, grind of the teeth—Robb was watching, and you would put a show for him. And there was no better act he liked than you looking like he was too big for you. Though _far_ from anything you couldn’t handle, you’d give him that. He _was_ big.

You clutched at the sheets, back arching as he was halfway in. You shivered around his veins and the natural ridges of his cock, each of them forcing you to conform around them. The feeling drove you mad. Robb above you, or Jon, or anyone else—it didn’t matter. What mattered is that he needed to go deeper—you needed him to go deeper. Your eyes squinted, narrowing to slits. Your vision was reduced to blurs of colors and light. The dancing flame in a tall brazier in the corner of the room was particularly hypnotizing. It reminded you that the Lord of Light was watching; He was with you all the time.

“Keep going—I want it _all_ — _all_ of it, love,” you groaned, heat stirring in your belly. You closed your eyes and writhed as he went deeper, _deeper_. You had almost all of him but it wasn’t enough. An uncontrollable itch crawled up your body as you writhed, unable to feel satisfied. _Why is it taking so long?_ Finally, you felt him whole in you.

“Move, Robb,” you cried. Robb grinned down at you, smug whenever you begged him. As an old friend you wanted to beat the smirk off him, but as a lover it sent a pang to your loins. Robb obliged you and rocked forward, making the bed under you both groan and whine. You felt the itch in you reside a bit. But it wasn’t enough.

“Faster,” you said airily. Robb’s hands brought you down on him, meeting his own thrusts with perfect timing. He was utterly taken with you, his eyes clouded with lust and admiration. While flattering, you didn’t need the sentimentality right now.

“I… I,” he began, panting. You hoped he wasn’t going to say what you think he was going to say, because you knew you couldn’t say it back. Not in this state. You had hardly half a mind right now, in the muddling throes sex always inflicted on you. You gripped the pillow behind you, back arching as your arm was languidly thrown to the side. That itch was coming back and it was all you could think about.

“F-faster,” you begged. But the man above you only continued his pace, clearly distracted by something else. His brows were furrowed in thought as he looked down on your face. It seemed he had come to a conclusion, eyes clearing.

“Listen,” he said, slowing even more. It drove you mad, being only gently rocked into the bed. “I l—“

As if he hadn’t any sense, the man above you stopped completely. You snarled, whipping your head to him. _“I said **faster** , Jon!”_

Robb halted completely, his expression of lust stuttering into confusion. He blinked as his eyebrows furrowed, creases as deep as canyons. His eyes flashed with hurt, then anger.

 _“Jon?”_ he breathed. His grip on your waist turned painful.

The air turned cold but you hadn’t half a mind to notice. You blinked hazily up at him. “Jon? What?” you asked, mind bleary.

Robb looked down on you with a glare of steel, but the pain was evident. He was off you in a second, running a hand through his hair as he stalked to the other side of the room. The sudden absence of him inside you threw you for a loop, sobered your mind. You sat up, cursing mentally. The bed whined under you as you stood cautiously.

“I—Robb, I’m—“

He turned to you, disbelief and incredulity and anger and betrayal clashing on his face. He looked like he was battling with something. Did he want to scream? Push you? What was certain was that deep somewhere in his eyes, you saw him beg you to deny it.

You lowered your gaze with neutral countenance, not denying anything.

“… Robb—“ He whipped away, turning to the flame of the lantern torch.

“Leave me,” came coldly.

Robb the admirer and childhood friend was gone, and Robb the King had taken his place in an instant.

You didn’t dally, fetching your clothes from the ground. You slipped your linen shirt over your head, pulled the cotton pants over your legs, and had your toes wiggling in your boots all within fifteen seconds. You had your head ducking under the tent flaps in the next two.

The air of the night was damp and heavy. It was the perfect weather for damp, heavy warfare, but something told you there would be none of it tonight.

When you had first found Robb’s camp days ago, you had grinned—both in the joy of being able to see your longtime friend and in the joy of being a step closer to completing your mission. You had squatted behind thick brush, hoping it was enough to hide you from any unfriendly eyes. It wasn’t, as it had turned out.

Plucked you were from the foliage, kicking and swinging your red-sleeved limbs. You managed to get the guards to let you go, so you could retain some dignity being marched through the bustling camp.

_“We found another spy, your Grace!” the guard barked, leveling a distasteful glare._

_One of the guards gave you a rough shove once you came to the curtained entrance of a tent, and you gracelessly stumbled through the threshold. You scowled, and looked up to see Robb’s sky blue eyes light upon you in shock, then happiness._

_In the moment, Robb’s advisors and bannermen looked from one of you to the other, questioning. Lady Stark did the same, but with a glint of suspicion she had no idea how right she was to behold._

_He had been breathless, and you didn’t know whether it was due to Melisandre’s enchantments, or the repressed affection Robb had always held for you. Either way, you knew he’d be easy._

_“You… I haven’t seen you—“_

_“In a very long time,” you supplied with a catlike grin. You bowed, though the gesture came off more as playful than genuine as you brought your eyes up to Robb’s, less as a king’s subordinate and more as his undaunted equal. “My king.”_

From then on it had been easy sailing. Besides the elation Robb had felt from seeing someone he had been so close to from his past, in a time where his family was scattered across the kingdoms, Robb had a hard time dealing with the stresses of being king. It was no wonder how pliable he had been to bend to your will some night ago. You had been stopped by guards who all but barked at you to leave, until Robb from inside his tent himself commanded them to let you through. Then you made conversation, kneaded his shoulders in false concern, touched him lower and deeper as time went on…

The thought had your libido swelling up again. You felt your head turn left, guided by some… _something_. You were now looking in the direction of a certain tent. A message from your Lord, you knew. Melisandre had told you that He was always there to direct you down the right path. As you took a step forwards, it comforted you knowing He was watching. After this was all done, you would like Robb to join you. You wanted Robb to feel the way the Lord made you feel. Surely, He’d forgive him for his transgression.

_“All can be saved,” Melisandre told you. “Drive the boy king mad, divide him and his brother, bring him to Stannis, and he’ll pardon him.” You looked deep into her molten red eyes, feeling her fingers around your length. “Stannis can save him from a cruel fate. Stannis will save him, dear.”_

Your blunder earlier hopefully wouldn’t drive a wedge between you and Robb. You needed him to be head over heels for you so he’d lose focus, and lose the war. It was your only chance at saving him—hell, the both of them. If you sent the rest of their party to slaughter, so be it.

You were at the tent now, its occupant probably long retired.

Ghost laid by the entrance, head in his paws. You knew the direwolf was rarely ever truly asleep, and when he was, he was easily awoken. This was confirmed when you stepped forward and a single ruby eye flashed at you.

“You should be in the kennels,” you scoffed.

He acknowledged you flippantly and buried his muzzle in his paws, going back to sleep, seeing you as no threat.

You bowed your head into the tent, stepping carefully. The flaps fell after you like curtains, ushering out most of the moonlight and ushering in the dark. You blinked harshly until your eyes adjusted, and you could see clearly.

On the bed—the only thing in the room besides Jon’s sword—was a man. His eyes were closed in slumber, his lips plush even from here. His chest rose and fell with breath, half of it covered by thin sheets.

“Jon?” you called out carefully. There was no answer.

You crept closer, stepping over his boots. He was usually so neat; he must’ve had a tiring day. It might’ve been cruel to wake him now, but you were already here and there was revelry to be had. When you were at his bedside, you tried again, “Jon.” No answer. Well, you supposed it could be a surprise.

You slipped into Jon’s bed effortlessly, sliding under the sheets. He didn’t stir. You unbuttoned your shirt teasingly open, though keeping it on. Your pants however, you wriggled out of and discarded them to the floor.

You scooted closer to Jon until your bodies fit like puzzle pieces. You wrapped your arms around your shoulders. You swayed your hips slowly and strategically against Jon’s groin.

He was in his smallclothes, so you could acutely feel him begin to rise against you. His breath became labored, but as far as you knew, he was still asleep. You wondered what dreams he was having now.

You worried the shell of his ear, whispering into it. Your motions grew evermore serpentine all the while. You grew content in just the friction, when you jumped. Firm hands hit your back, keeping you from escaping. You fidgeted, before your body going slack when you remembered who it was.

“Why are you here?” asked Jon Snow. His voice was low and groggy, but curious.

He rolled over on his back, wiping the sleep from his eyes. You stared at his tented sheets, grinning. For the seconds he was trying to shake off sleep, he hadn’t yet noticed. When he did, following your downcast gaze, he cursed and made to turn. You stopped him, palming him over the sheets.

“Maybe I just wanted to say hello.” You waved to his groin. “Hello, Little Jon.” Jon narrowed his eyes. You raised your hands in defense. “Oh, sorry— _Big_ Jon.” He rolled his eyes. Jon sat up and you sat up with him. You brought his face to you with a gentle hand, swooping in for a kiss smoothly. You put all your desire into it, purring. When you put an inch between you both, you saw him looking dazed.

“Could I help you with that?” you asked, hand still on his hardness.

Jon didn’t answer, looking at you heatedly. You grinned. There was that same reluctance in his eyes every time you advanced to him. He was much more scrutinizing than Robb, surely. But wrapped around your finger all the same.

You flung the offending sheets away, crawling onto Jon’s lap. You unbuttoned Jon’s pants with a few deft motions, him in his entirety bounding out of his constraints. You heard an intake of breath from him. You felt no need to dally, and made to cut to the chase.

You sank onto him slowly. He was speechless. Or rather, he wanted to speak but all that slipped from his lips were groans, grunts, choked noises.

“You’re… you’re already—“

“Yes, I was ready for you,” you whispered. You leaned forward, nipping him on the ear.

Jon’s eyes, fluttering between closed and open, blearily looked at you.

“Were you?” he moaned out. “Really?” There was something like hope in his eyes, as you could see pink dust his cheeks even in the darkness of the room. But there was also a practicality to his tone, knowing the truth even if you bothered to lie.

You thought about it. Jon had suspected for a long time, so what was the harm in confirming his suspicions? “No.” You closed your eyes, throwing you head back as you continued to anchor yourself to him. “Not—not for you, particularly.”

“Then for who?” came immediately after. You snuck a peek at him. Jon didn’t look hurt like Robb, or even betrayed—he seemed bothered, but reluctantly accepting. He had known since you were boys that you did what you wanted— _who_ you wanted, flitting from one person to the next.

You were equally close to Robb and Jon, but it was Jon who had seen more sides of you, Jon who probably had the closest idea to what you were actually like. Your reputation always made Lord and Lady Stark wary in keeping you in Robb’s countenance, so you saw him less, but no one cared about a whore befriending a bastard.

You settled at the base of Jon’s cock. _Finally_.

 _“Who?”_ Jon repeated, gripping your arms. You sighed blissfully at being so filled by him.

“Robb,” you said plainly. The grip on your arms was painful. Jon’s nails dug into you.

His brows furrowed and his mouth was in a bitter line. You met eyes before he lowered his head, curls falling in a dark curtain and keeping the look on his face from your sight. In the second you had, you saw anger, maybe the same hurt Robb had earlier tonight. You felt nearly concerned, until you felt Jon buck into you.

You gasped, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself up. Again, again, again, and he seemed to only get quicker. You mewled loudly in approval, biting Jon’s ear. It was very much a change from his usual. Jon preferred it slow, passionate, burning to Robb’s quick, messy, and fevered pace. Both approaches pleased you, but tonight you were the mood for the latter.

As if you weren’t stimulated enough, Jon’s hand found its sneaky way around your erection. But whereas you thought he’d begin to pump you to completion, he simply held you in a vice grip under the head. It was harsh as he gripped you. Once you felt yourself almost spill over the edge, but his grip was keeping a cap firmly on your orgasm. You whined, clawing at his back.

“Jon, _please_ ,” you cried, trying to wiggle out his iron hold. Jon’s face was apathetic besides the flush on his cheeks, but his eyes met yours with the light of retribution. He was clearly enjoying this. You looked down to your erection, seeing it flushed painfully red, as if it was about to burst. It seemed to weep at the treatment, pearls of pre-cum running down Jon’s hand. The curls around his face bounced with each thrust he landed up into you.

You kissed him hard, hoping he’d ease up. He did no such thing, but he did return your kiss with hot, angry tongue. Your lips were released and left feeling bruised.

It was too much. You needed _release_ , and damn Jon if he thought he was going to keep it from you. Your body flooded with anger until you felt another missed peak and you writhed with frustration.

“Jon,” you pleaded. The desperation in your voice caused him to look to you and actual listen. _“I’m sorry!”_

“For?” he breathed. You thought it was from fatigue, but it was from his awe at how you looked when you begged. If only you knew how wholly taken he was with you. And for you to go to Robb—his brother—Jon’s grip tightened and you yelped.

“For… for—” you stuttered. You brought yourself down with his every thrust, hoping it’d drive you over the edge but Jon’s hand pushed you back. Your mind was brought back from the haze of the relentless cycle and you struggled to speak. “For going to Robb!” you cried. “For letting him have me!” Tears prickled at your eyes as you thought you couldn’t withstand anymore.

You rasped as one of your hands cupped on Jon’s face.

“I need you,” you slurred. Jon’s eyes lighted at the words. “I _need_ you, so—please…”

Jon’s face fell from unsympathetic to indulging. His gaze fell from your eyes to your lips. His pace slowed, and you were about to scream at him until his grip loosened. It was so sudden the release from the pain was painful itself. You gasped and Jon took the opportunity to steal a kiss from you. You groaned into his mouth, but lost all function to make any noise at all as Jon’s slack hand pumped you hard and fast. It didn’t take much time at all to finish you off. You stroked Jon’s tongue affectionately with your own, grateful.

Your body trembled on its own accord and not a second later you came. It was relieving beyond words. Your body relaxed, flush against Jon’s. You lazily participated in the kiss, no more energy left. You belatedly recognized a familiar liquid warmth in you and realized Jon had finished sometime as well.

You removed yourself from his lips and looked Jon’s deeply in his eyes.

“You both… can share me, you know.” He was nearly hypnotized by you, mouth slick with your saliva. “I feel no need to choose,” you said honestly. Though instead of the gladness you expected to see on his face, there was only resignation.

You laid Jon down as his eyes grew heavy. He didn’t protest, not you or your suggestion.

But was hardly a suggestion, you thought. They would _have_ to share you. The Lord of Light had plans for you. So far they were both smitten, and while them finding out about one another wasn’t part of the plan, if it created more discord, it was all the better.

Jon was asleep about five seconds after his head hit the bed, leaving you alone. You lied down next to him, hands clasped on your abdomen.

You stared up at the ceiling, listening to Jon’s soft breaths to lull you to sleep.

You adored him and Robb—God, you did. Robb—no matter how he was or how he could change he was still your friend. The northern lord who had bothered to give you the time of day, regardless of the nobility of his birth and the lowliness of yours. And Jon—he was so kind, if not a little solemn. But you both were wings of a feather, both outcasts in your own right. Even if Robb was more important to the Lord’s plans, you’d vouch for them both to be pardoned by Stannis.

You felt heat stir in your belly. The Lord was telling you you weren’t finished. You and He needed _more_. You groaned, knowing Jon was too tired and Robb the wounded pup wouldn’t let you back into his quarters tonight.

You rolled off the bed soundlessly, pulling on your pants so you could go scope out someone else, to warm their bed, let them spill in your body. There were a few knights who had been casting eyes on you lately.

You adored Robb. _But sadly…_

You played with the dark garnet pinned to your chest, above your heart.

_… he was no true king._


End file.
